


The Dead Kwami, or How Gabriel Found The Butterfly Miraculous

by Draxynnic



Series: Monty Python's Miraculous Circus [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Inspired by Monty Python, it's crack again, mild Mayura spoiler if you squint, rated T for callous treatment of a poor innocent kwami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draxynnic/pseuds/Draxynnic
Summary: “Duusu, Gabriel had you first. How did you avoid being used for evil like I was?”“I played dead.”“I wishI’dthought of that…”“Oh, Nooroo… Don’t be so sure about that until I tell you what I went through to pull it off.”





	The Dead Kwami, or How Gabriel Found The Butterfly Miraculous

**Author's Note:**

> Had this sitting in my documents folder for longer than I'd care to admit. Not really happy with it, but I don't think I'm going to get happier with it from having it sit there for a few months, so I decided to make a few tweaks to account for Mayura and get it out there.

Gabriel allows himself a brief curl of the lips in distaste before composing his expression and pushing open the door of the grey-market artifacts dealer. “Bonjour. I wish to make a complaint.”  
  
The proprietor, an Indian man dressed in the latest British fashion – probably a reflection of the wealthier foreign clients that come for his under-the-counter section – was busy working on something beneath the counter and didn’t appear to have noticed Gabriel’s entrance, despite the ringing of a bell over the door.  
  
“Bonjour, Monsieur.” Gabriel tries again, more insistently.  
  
The owner pops up from behind the counter, and indignant expression on his face. “What do you mean, ‘messy’?” he asks, with barely a trace of an accent in his English.  
  
Gabriel pauses for a moment. He was sure that the man knew better, but Gabriel didn’t think it was worth his time to call him out on it. “Excusez-mei, I’m French. I wish to make a complaint.  
  
“We’re closing for lunch.” The owner responds, reaching for the Closed sign.

“Never mind that, monsieur.” Gabriel lays a decorative pin in the shape of a fan on the counter. “I wish to complain about this Miraculous which I purchased not a day ago from this very boutique.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” the proprietor responds, his voice shaking slightly, “the, uh, Blue Peacock… What’s, uh… What’s wrong with it?”  
  
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it,” Gabriel responds in a flat tone, holding up the cage that had come with the pin, a blue shape like a stuffed chibi animal lying at the bottom of it. “The kwami’s dead. That’s what’s wrong with it.”  
  
“No, sir, he’s… uh… he’s resting!”  
  
“Look, monsieur,” Gabriel gestures towards the cage. “I know a dead kwami when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.”  
  
“No, no!” A touch of the Indian man’s birth accent begins to creep into his indignant response. “He’s not dead, he’s… he’s resting! Remarkable kwami, the Blue Peacock, isn’t it? Beautiful plumage!”  
  
Gabriel gives the shopowner a flat stare in response. “The plumage doesn’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.”  
  
“Nononono, no, no! He’s resting!”  
  
“All right, then.” Gabriel answers. “If he’s resting, I’ll wake him up.” Lifting the cage to his face, Gabriel adopts the voice he employs on the rare occasions that his son is running late to an appointment. “Hello, Duusu! I’ve got a lovely fresh punnet of berries for you if you show…”  
  
His delivery is interrupted as the owner reaches over the counter to knock the cage, causing Duusu’s plumage to ruffle with the impact. “There, he moved!”  
  
“No, he didn’t.” Gabriel refutes. “That was you hitting the cage.”  
  
“I never!” The accent gets a little stronger as the shopowner’s composure weakens.  
  
“Yes you did.”  
  
“I never, never did anything, sir!”  
  
Gabriel shakes his head and begins hitting the cage himself, raising his voice to a level previously only exceeded by the time three years ago when one of his dressers managed to tear what was to be the centrepiece for a show just before it was to go on the runway. “HELLO, DUUSU!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your six o’clock alarm call!”  
  
Before the proprietor could respond, Gabriel reaches into the cage and pulls the limp kwami from the cage by the legs, thumping Duusu’s head on the counter several times, wham, wham, _wham_. Neither Gabriel nor the shopowner noticed the slight whimpers of pain that Duusu was unable to hold in over the sound of the kwami’s head being smacked against the wood. Finally, Gabriel flips the kwami by the legs, setting Duusu spinning through the air until the kwami came crashing onto the floor. “Now, that’s what I call a dead kwami.”  
  
“No, no!” The proprietor objects. “No, he’s stunned!”  
  
(He wasn’t wrong. Duusu was starting to have regrets, but after that treatment, Duusu couldn’t move even if the kwami had wanted to.)  
  
“Stunned?” Gabriel asks, a touch of incredulity entering his tone.  
  
“Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was waking up! Kwamis stun easily, sir.”  
  
“Oh? Look, monsieur, I’ve definitely had enough of this. This kwami is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not a day ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being hungry and tired after prolonged manifestation without a meal.” Gabriel gestures to the berries, now scattered across the cage floor.  
  
“Well, he’s… he’s, ah… probably pining for the Fox.”  
  
“Pining for the fox?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow – an expressive gesture for the normally reserved businessman. “What kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got back to the hotel?”  
  
“The Peacock prefers sleeping on his back!” the merchant insists. “Remarkable kwami, isn’t it, sir? Lovely plumage!”  
  
“Look, I took the liberty of examining the kwami when I returned to my room, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been tied on.”  
  
There is a pregnant pause as the shopowner considered his response. “Well, of course it was! If it wasn’t for that magic string, it would have nosied up to the bars, phased right through, torn the pin off your chest, and VOOM! Freeeeeeeedom!”  
  
“VOOM?” Gabriel inquires in a dry tone. “Look, monsieur…” Gabriel places the cage down and collects the limp Duusu from the floor. “This kwami wouldn’t ‘voom’ if you put four million volts through it. It is clearly demised.”  
  
_Please don’t_ , Duusu had regained his consciousness enough to think, although he continued hanging limply from Gabriel’s grip.  
  
“No, no! He’s pining!”  
  
And that was the moment when Gabriel Agreste lost his composure.  
  
“It’s not pining, it’s passed on! This kwami is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late kwami!” Gabriel lifts Duusu to eye level, the kwami swaying slightly as it dangles from its legs. “It’s completely limp! Bereft of life it rests in peace! If you hadn’t tied it up,” Gabriel swings the kwami towards where the cage sat on the floor, “it would be pushing up the daisies! It’s run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This! Is! An! Ex! Kwami!”  
  
Silence falls as the owner considers the irate (but more importantly, wealthy and influential) customer, before finally acquiescing. “Well, I’d better replace it, then.”  
  
_If you want to get anything done around here, you have to complain until you’re blue in the mouth…_ Gabriel reflects, as the shopkeeper starts looking around under the counter.  
  
“Sorry, sir, I’m all out of Miraculouses.” The shopkeeper claims.  
  
“Oh, I see.” Gabriel responds. “I see. I get the picture.”  
  
“I have this amulet of protection against polyphaga,” the owner offers.     
  
Gabriel focuses his glare on the man. “Does it give you superpowers?”  
  
“Not really, no.”  
  
“Then it’s hardly a replacement, then, is it?”  
  
“Listen, sir, a good customer like you, I’ll tell you… you go to my brother’s artefact shop in Dahisar…” the owner offers Gabriel a card, which he glances over before slipping it into a pocket, “…and he’ll replace your Miraculous for you.”  
  
“Dahisar is, it?” Gabriel responds. “Very well.”

-

  
Gabriel pushes his way into a disturbingly familiar-looking artefact shop. There was even a cage lying on the floor, to which Gabriel glances at in surprise before looking at the owner. The family resemblance was clear, the brother looking virtually identical except for the suspicious-looking moustache (in the dim light, it even looked a little like a slug attached to his lip). Perhaps they were identical twins, and one of them attempted to grow a moustache as a distinguishing factor? “Bonjour. This is Dahisar, isn’t it?”  
  
“No, sir, it’s Mulund.”  
  
_Well, that’s Mumbai Metro for you…_ Gabriel thinks, before marching out.

-

Returning to the station, Gabriel marches up to the desk. “Bonjour, I wish to make a complaint.”  
  
“I DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS, YOU KNOW!” The complaints desk operator fires back.  
  
Gabriel curls his lip. “I have had an exasperating day and I assure you that I have the contacts to go above your head if need be. Now, I wish to make a complaint! I got on the Dahisar train and found myself deposited here in Mulund!”  
  
The complaints receiver fights hard not to roll his eyes at the businessman with what appeared to be a blue stuffed toy hanging from his hand “No, sir, this is Dahisar.”  
  
Gabriel growls. “The artefact shop owner’s brother was lying!”  
  
“Well, you can’t blame Mumbai Metro for that!”  
  
_If this is Dahisar, I shall return to the artefact shop._ Gabriel stalks away with what remained of his dignity.

-

Striding back into the store, Gabriel peers over the counter at the brother, who appeared to be trying to hide under the counter. “I understand that this is Dahisar.”  
  
“Yes?” the brother responded.  
  
“But you told me that it was Mulund.”  
  
“It was a pun.”  
  
Gabriel narrows his eyes. “A pun?”  
  
“Nooo, nooo,” the brother backtracks, “not a pun, what was the other thing? Which reads the same backwards as forwards?”  
  
Gabriel maintains his glare. “A palindrome?”  
  
“Yes, yes.”  
  
“It’s not a palindrome.” Gabriel points out, in the tone of voice normally reserved for speaking to an obstinate child. “The palindrome of ‘Dahisar’ would be ‘Rasihad’. It does not work.”

There is a pause as the two men stare each other down in a battle of wills.

Not a long one, mind you. Against Gabriel, this was the equivalent of bringing a banana to a gunfight.  
  
“Well, what do you want?”  
  
“I am not prepared to pursue this line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly.”  
  
_Quite agree, quite agree,_ Duusu mused, _too silly, far too silly, come on, you’ve got better things to do, just leave me here and get back to your normal life, give up on chasing Miraculouses, come on…_  
  
“But your brother told me you might have a replacement for this faulty Miraculous.”  
  
Duusu mentally swore in a language older than recorded history.  
  
“Miraculous, sir? Yes, sir, I have this butterfly brooch.” The moustached brother flips the winged brooch onto the table.  
  
_Butterfly?_ Gabriel mused. _A little close to my name and brand for comfort, but it’s worth the risk if it will help get Emilie back…_ “I’ll take it.”  
  
“Excellent, sir. For you, sir, the price of…”  
  
“My silence on the matter of your brother selling me a defective magical item and then the two of you trying to give me the runaround.” Gabriel interjects, scooping up the butterfly brooch and turning to leave. “Au revoir.”

*             *             *            

BONUS:

“Okay, but I know he figured out you weren’t actually dead eventually – why was he so hesitant to use you after that?”

“Well, he _did_ slam my head against a table multiple times. I just made him aware that any injury to the kwami would be carried on to the wielder in the event of transformation, and then I made sure I took any opportunity to make myself ill after that.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what he meant by your miraculous being broken!”

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, my actual theory is that there's a connection between Emilie's condition and whatever's wrong with the Peacock Miraculous, but hey. Crack is crack.


End file.
